He smiled and knocked at the door. Surprisingly quickly, the door opened.
“Good afternoon,” Bedevere said.
“We’re looking for Atlantis. Can
you put us on the right road?”
The woman who had answered the door looked as if she probably could, in
a sense. She struck Bedevere as the sort
of woman who has a son called Oak and two daughters called Skychild and
Mistletoe, and she was wearing rather a lot of that jewellery that nobody ever
buys at craft fairs.
“Sorry?” she said.
“Atlantis,” Bedevere repeated.
“You know...”
.
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